


BTHB 1/25 - Villainous Rescue

by Blanketempress



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [1]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, canon typical violence otherwise, it's just a finger it's ok, warning for amputation I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 07:11:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19371823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blanketempress/pseuds/Blanketempress
Summary: Herald got himself in a lowkey hopeless situationHerald's POV





	BTHB 1/25 - Villainous Rescue

Blood soaked your clothes, sticking them to your skin, making it uncomfortable to move now that it’s dry. Not that you can move that much. The chair is nailed to the ground, you’re tied to the chair. You passed out a few times, you’re sure of it, your captor threw a bucket of ice-cold water to your face, soaking the ground with red. It’s all dry now. So, hours. Days? You did get a couple meals.

Focus.

You need to remember as many details as you can.

It all started with your usual patrol, an uneventful night. There was a distressed call from a nearby grocery shop, the kind of things the Rangers can ignore, the kind of things the LDPD is there to deal with. But you were so close, you couldn’t help it and you rushed in, just in time to see a man run out. You took the time to check if no one had been injured and you tried to catch up with the runner.

Exhaustion takes over, breaking your trail of thoughts. Pain is strangely fading, you’re not too sure if it’s a good thing or not. Probably not. You’ve been in pain, you’ve been hurt already, a lot more in the couple years than in the rest of your life to be fair. But every time you knew help would come, that you just had to be patient, help would come and you would heal. Help will come, you tell yourself. So you close your eyes for a while, trying to catch some rest.

You got too far, into empty streets. There was… Someone. A masked figure, a vicious laugh. You fell into a trap, you are now painfully aware of it. The rest is blur, drowned under the hits you failed to dodge. You were already in this room when your thoughts finally cleared. An abandoned building, judging by the wooden planks on the too tiny window. You could reach it, if only you could get rid of your restrains, of the metal biting into your wrists and your ankles. They’re making every breath is painful, pressing onto your broken ribs.

Footsteps coming closer break the hazy state you were in and fear rises. There’s a key in the door, a man enters, a smile on his face, like a worker who just clocked in for the day. The smirk of someone who likes his job a bit too much.

You let out a strangled gasp when he grabs your hair, forcing you to look at him.

“Your colleagues are slow, blondie. Boss thinks that they’re trying to find us instead of just accepting his demands. Not really smart, huh?”

He pulls a knife seemingly out of nowhere and runs the blade on your cheek, drops it slowly down your throat, drawing blood but not cutting too deep. Then he laughs and lets go of you.

“We’ll just send them one of your fingers, don’t worry I’ll keep the rest in good shape for later.”

He moves to the other side of the room, drops the knife. To take a pair of cutters. You try desperately to move, only hurting your ribs, reopening the burning wounds the restrains left into your flesh. Helpless, only thing left to do is watch.

You pass out again when you feel the bite of the metal.

_

It’s been days. Your captors are getting fidgety, impatient. They lifted your restrains but kept you under heavy supervision a couple times, so you could tend to your wounds. They were not expecting to have to keep you for so long. They probably won’t keep you much longer.

Would they really go as far as killing a Ranger? You’re not a regular hero, not a vigilante. There are paybacks when a cop is killed, what kind of payback is there if a Ranger is murdered? The question is morbid but you can’t get it out of your head.

Your strength is strangely growing back, you feel clearer now. You try to remember your captors’ faces, their patrolling patterns and any detail that could help you out.

Trying to strike a conversation was an idea. Not a good one since it got you a punch in the face from one guard. Not a bad one since another one seems to find it amusing to talk to you, like you’re some kind of smart monkey. He talked of his boss, not giving enough hints for you to piece together who it could be just yet. What you did very much understand is that this boss is getting very impatient. You tried to give them the idea of a making a video for the Rangers, of you at their mercy, to buy yourself some time, a few days maybe.

One of the guards comes back eventually. This time he carries a gun.

There’s a shadow behind him in the corridor, you have trouble figuring if it’s just a trick of the light or something else. Your eyes grow wide when you realize that yes, there is something. Someone. A creepy armor that looks like it’s been made out of bones, full of strange angles, with twisted limbs and too many eyes to the skull helmet. Nightmare.

The man turns around, following your gaze. He closes the door, Nightmare right behind him, towering, threatening.

“Well” the man says “The boss is really done with that game now, sorry about that, blondie.”

You see him raise his hand. You see him hesitate. He seems frozen on spot and there’s sweat running on his temples. He turns around again, so very slowly.

And fires, three times, before he falls to the ground.

The shots did nothing to Nightmare’s armor, who takes one step forward, making the man crawl backward until his back hits a wall.

“I’m very interested in that boss of yours.”

Nightmare’s voice is just a whisper, loud enough to be heard in the empty room. The growling of warning of a wild animal, the angry hiss of a creature from the depth.

The guard goes back to his feet and rushes toward you, using you like a shield, pointing the gun to your head now.

“Don’t fucking move, you freak!”

Nightmare tilts his head and there’s a weird sound coming from nowhere in particular, echoing through the room. “Go ahead and shoot, then. I’ll have all the time to interrogate you later, once you’re out of options.”

Fear is long gone, replaced by that feeling a rabbit would probably get if it got stuck between a hungry tiger and a giant poisonous snake. Everything feels eerily distant, you almost stopped breathing.

The man manages to laugh, a very nervous and broken laugh “I know you. Everyone knows you, Nightmare. You’re a wimp, you go and help people. You even spared Charge when you had her at your mercy. You won’t risk blondie’s life.”

Nightmare crosses his arms, in the attitude of someone vaguely annoyed. “I don’t kill civilians. And I still have uses for the Rangers. You on the other hand, you piss me off. And you’re neither.”

He steps forward, you close your eyes hard. The guard is stiff, unmoving. You look at his face and find nothing but fear, changing his face into a mask of terror before he drops to the ground.

You watch as Nightmare steps over him and comes to remove your restrains, the claws of his armor cutting through them like through butter. It’s the first time that you see the helmet so close, while he apparently stares at you, checking your injuries. It looks strangely fake, right now, you can tell it’s just metal and technology. It’s like seeing the big ropes behind a theater’s curtains, you always knew you weren’t dealing with an actual demon, but the effect when you fought him was always so otherworldly.

“Can you stand?”

When he talks the charm is broken, the fascination vanishes and you realize just how real this situation is. Did he know you were there or was it just a coincidence? Why would he help you out.

There’s a groan and he picks you up from the chair, holding you like a child, sparking a little flame of indignation. There’s not much left of your pride but you’d still like to keep it.

“Hey! I can move on my own!”

“Then do it. Either you float and you follow me or I leave you behind. I’m not going to wait for you to limp out of here.”

You bite your tongue and focus. Floating comes easy, it’s a real relief to not feel anything holding you down, no floor under your feet, you even breath more easily.

When your gaze falls on the guard, you feel a pinch in your guts. He’s basically drolling, eyes wide open on nothing, petrified and shivering as if he was being electrified.

“I don’t kill people.” Nightmare says. “It’s such a waste when I can do much worse.”

You shudder as you can hear the smile in his voice. “What did you do?”

He stops and turns to you, helmet way too close to your face once again. “Why do you care? They’re thugs. They’re murderers. Torturers.”

You grit your teeth but before you find something to answer he grabs your wrist, raises your hand to force you to look at it. There’s still pain. There’s still blood. Somehow, there’s even still the sensation of a thumb. You look away, feeling nauseous.

“They are not the kind of people who had no choice but to break the law.” Nightmare’s voice is almost soft despite the uncanny modulations. “They would have killed you.”

You break free from his grip, finding it weaker than expected. It takes all your willpower to raise your chin and throw his own words at him “And why do you care?”

Stupid bravado. But you want to make him talk. There’s an idea, at the back of your head. Something that has been worming it’s way through your thoughts in the past few months. Like an unwanted weed that keeps growing back every time you try to tear it off, stronger and bigger every time, brought back by new doubts. Why can’t you stop thinking that this is someone you know hidding under the armor.

Nightmare does not answer. There’s something like a scoff, or a laugh, and he turns his back, leading the way.

The way out.

You forget your doubts and suspicions, you forget your questions, following him through ill lit corridors, toward freedom and the night sky.


End file.
